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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28595769">There are some days where I could see myself bowed before an altar of bones</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illumina/pseuds/Illumina'>Illumina</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anarchist Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Bounty Hunters, Childhood Friends, Clay | Dream &amp; Technoblade Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Enemies to Friends, Friends to Enemies, Hunters &amp; Hunting, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Manhunt - Freeform, Minecraft, Minecraft Manhunt, Other, Protective Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Has a Heart (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Tries (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF), Touch-Starved Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Twins Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade, rivalstwt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:08:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,540</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28595769</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illumina/pseuds/Illumina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p> </p><p>Dream didn't know how it all started, why people were following him or why he was running away from them like a scared little rabbit. He just knew that he couldn't stop running (away from his inevitable doom).</p><p> </p><p>Or; Manhunt but Dream makes friends.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Antfrost &amp; Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound &amp; Darryl Noveschosch &amp; Sapnap, Antfrost &amp; Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Darryl Noveschosch, Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Clay | Dream &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, Clay | Dream &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Wilbur Soot, Darryl Noveschosch &amp; Sapnap, Eret &amp; Niki | Nihachu, Eret &amp; Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound &amp; Darryl Noveschosch &amp; Sapnap, GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu &amp; Ranboo, Wilbur Soot &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade, Zak Ahmed &amp; Darryl Noveschosch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Dreamwastaken Angst/Other Dream-centric fanfics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Take my hand let's go somewhere we can rest our souls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i started another fic hahahah</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A man on the run, what will he do?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always, no shipping, tis is platonic, thank you very much :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dream was <em>tired.</em> </p>
<p>His legs wobbled more and more the further he ran -fear ran through his veins, it felt like they would give out from beneath him in a matter of hurried heartbeats-, his lungs screamed in pain and protest and his sight was blurry. </p>
<p>Sweat ran down his face and neck, his body felt unbearably hot and overwhelmed -<em>a part of him blamed the damned mask for it</em>-, his breaths came in quick and short, the sound of his blood rushing through his ears muted everything else. His insides felt like they had been sucked dry despite the saliva that dribbled from his panting mouth. He could not even quiet his desperate gasps for air, breathing was hard and no matter how many times he inhaled, the sweet oxygen seemed to fade the second it ended up in his mouth.</p>
<p> Still, he couldn’t stop now, they might get him, and Dream doesn’t want to die. <em>‘It would be easier',</em> a voice in his head tempts him and Dream knows that. </p>
<p>It would be so easy to just stop running, to come to a halt and let them catch up, catch him. And then he would die. They would kill him; he would die, and it would all be over. He could finally rest without a hint of fear in his core, he could sleep, he could get some actual, good food, he could settle down, he could do more than just survive; he could live. </p>
<p>But Dream’s fight-or-flight instincts are screaming at him to keep going, <em>to run and run and run and not look back</em>. His objective was to stay away, to stay <em>alive</em>. </p>
<p>Grass and dirt flew into every direction when he sprinted across the fields, unaware of the hunters’ current location. All he could see were his surroundings; the trees, the animals, the holes in the ground that had to be filled with dozens of evil creatures, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for their next victim. With a jump, he easily leapt across a hole in front of him. </p>
<p>Curses rang through the air, accompanied by high-pitched yelling. He risked a glance back, saw that one of the hunters was missing -that they had stopped chasing him to gather around the hole, shouting and pointing- and took euphoria’s hand, letting her lead him deeper into the forest, further and further away. </p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Dream kept running until he couldn’t. His legs gave out from underneath him, trembling and aching, unable to support him, his chest was aching, and loud gasps echoed through the orange-tinted air screaming sunset.</p>
<p>Night-time was approaching which meant that hunters would not be the only ones he needed to fear. </p>
<p>The young man held onto the tree for support as he got up. His legs buckled but Dream turned and started to make his way up the tree. He slipped more than he would have liked, but his legs felt like they weren't even solid anymore, they felt numb and yet also wobbly and he <em>just knew</em> that his muscles would ache in the morning. This is where he would be spending the night -again- and maybe he could try to get some sleep before he had to run again. </p>
<p>He slipped off his bag and opened it, searching for his water bottle. He found it, grimaced upon realising that it was in dire need of refilling. He would have to do it tomorrow, doing it now would be suicidal. Dream ignored the little voice in the back of his mind that suggested with poisonous intent that it would be <em>so much better</em> than to face the next day and run again like <em>prey</em>.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>It wasn’t like he <em>wanted</em> to run. He hated it, hated this. But he didn’t want to fight either. Those were his friends, the thought of possibly injuring someone he had literally grown up with felt like someone had shot an arrow through his heart. The pain was heavy and held him down, constantly pulsing, a reminder of what was in a possible future.</p>
<p> The young man prayed to no one in particular that it would never happen. He loved each and every one of them. He couldn’t hurt them which meant that he couldn’t fight them.</p>
<p> Dream knew himself. If it came down to a fight, he might lose himself. In the chaos, the bloodshed, the breath of victory that ghosted his lips, the promise of peace and quiet after he won, after he killed those who wronged him and hunted him like a beast that needed to be slain. Like they didn’t grow up together, like they didn’t promise to stick together forever, to protect each other, like they didn’t call themselves the <em>Dream Team</em>. </p>
<p>The tree felt uncomfortable against his back. He shifted, stretched, a pathetic attempt at giving his arms and legs a break. </p>
<p>His eyes felt heavy, they seemed to burn, but paranoia gnawed at his thoughts. The last time he slept in a tree, he must have been in clear sight because the hunters stumbled upon him and he only lived to see another day because his friends sucked at their job. They were loud, always bickering, screaming, taunting, laughing- they just sucked at being stealthy. </p>
<p>It all felt so light-hearted. On some days, Dream thought that they were just playing a game of Manhunt, simply chasing each other and laughing until the sun came up. The once joyful memory brought nothing but pain. These days were gone now. </p>
<p>His friends now no longer challenged him with empty, playful threats but with swords, axes, crossbows, arrows and armour and Gods, it hurt. Not only the injuries that tainted his body but also the fact that he had lost his friends, that they would be the one leading him to his demise, the ones to send him six feet under. </p>
<p>The blond wasn’t sure if he would feel better if it weren’t his friends but random strangers. Probably. At least he could get rid of strangers, nobodies who were after him because someone screamed witch and now there was a bounty on his head for something he had never done, would never do. </p>
<p>Dream shut his eyes, trying to give them some rest. He would rise before the moon was fully gone. He couldn’t afford to stay in one place for too long because they were able to track him, they always knew where he was, they would always be able to find him as long as they had those damned compasses. Dream would make a show out of destroying those cursed things. </p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>For now, though, he looked up at the stars and wondered if the Gods would have mercy on him and make this entire thing less- sad. Less lonely. </p>
<p>Dream was a social guy. Always had been. He craved people, warmth and company, human contact, conversations, anything that could reassure him that he would make it through this, that he wasn’t alone. </p>
<p>Yeah, some company would be delightful.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. If you seek liberation, you'll create ruins along the way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dream runs from the hunters.<br/>Ow.<br/>The hunters go yeet.<br/>Dream goes to a village.<br/>He just wants some peace.<br/>He doesn't get any.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warnings: violence, death, murder, panic (attacks-), vomiting, poison, injuries, corpses</p><p> </p><p>It's been 84 years...<br/>Haha jk, I am back plz follow me on here and on Tumblr (@illumina777) and Twitter (@IlluminaIsTaken) I need clout</p><p>For real though, assignments, mental health, writer's block and commissions got in my way, really sorry for not updating this. Have a longer chapter &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whatever God it was that had heard him ask for company must be basking in the golden glows that the Heavenly Officials were blessed with as they pissed themselves laughing at his misery.</p><p>Dream did not wake up before they found him -didn’t get to taste the sunrise on his tongue and inhale the disappearing moondust as a new day arose like a Phoenix would rise from bloodied golden ashes-, in fact, he woke up <em>because</em> they had found him.</p><p><br/>
He had pretty much fallen out of the tree upon hearing their loud yells of victory. He fell like Icarus but unlike him, he didn’t plummet into the ocean and had landed in a very surprised Sapnap's arms instead.</p><p>The blond didn’t know what was worse. Because he had been able to look into  Sapnap's dark-brown eyes and this was not his childhood friend that looked back at him with the soft warmth of the last day of spring but a bloodthirsty beast and a part of Dream <em>-the part that was young and naïve, that clung to the torn strings of their friendship as if it was a lifeline-</em> broke.</p><p><br/>
The hunters, on the other hand, didn’t notice his inner turmoil, hidden beneath skin and bones in the darkest depths of his soul. They had all looked at each other and then at him. Clearly, no one had expected things to end up like this. Kind of disappointing since they were supposed to be the hunters, the ones who should immediately take action once they had him. But who was he to remind them of this fact?</p><p>Before the man could even do anything, Dream kicked him in the face so hard that the other dropped him. The fall briefly knocked the air out of his lungs but he had been through worse and so he rolled to the side and then Dream scrambled to his feet and fled. </p><p><br/>
Fleeing seemed to be all he was good at nowadays. It was all he ever did; all he would ever do for the rest of his miserable life unless he died and that was something that Dream didn’t have in mind for himself. Not yet, at least. There was a first time for everything and if you were left alone with your darkest thoughts and fears that pooled together and formed an endlessly deep, black ocean, your mind came up with strange, strange things. But who would be there to know?</p><p><br/>
He stumbled for a bit until he was aware enough of the situation and his surroundings to run quicker and further away from the people who were after his head. He scolded himself for being so careless. If those were actual, good, talented hunters they could have killed him.</p><p>He couldn’t afford to sleep while he was a hunted man. He would need a saver spot at the very least. Something underground maybe. It would be dark and hard to navigate but with all the monsters that lurked in the dark-- A cave would be a bad option considering the fact that he couldn’t wear armour. Well, he could. It would slow him down though, like the iron armour that the hunters wore. </p><p><br/>
His speed was his best chance right now. If he were to slow down, he would need to prepare for a fight and he wasn’t too sure if he had a chance against the four of them.</p><p>While they were indeed made of chaos and the warm glow of youth, his friends were no fools. If they prepared for it there was a chance that they would be able to stand up against him. He couldn’t afford that. Not when he had made it this far.</p><p><br/>
They had always been slower than him when they were kids. He had rushed ahead, the wind and the sun's warm glow carrying him across flower fields and rocks -as if he was the child of the sun, marked by her flesh, making his way home- until it seemed like he was flying while his friends had tried oh so desperately to keep up with him. Now they had certainly improved, yet they still weren’t as fast as him and the armour did its part too. As long as he could keep on running, they would never catch him.</p><p> </p><p><br/>
But did he want to keep on running? How far would he have to go to be able to just live and rest? He didn’t know. It felt like he would never be able to rest, to stay in a place and live as every other person could. It just wasn’t fair that he was the one who was being chased.</p><p>The worst he had ever done was steal some food -with his friends- from the market to share it with the other children in the poorer parts of their hometown where food had been as rare as a person living to see another day after a terrible illness.</p><p><br/>
He was not a bad person. He really wasn’t. At least, Dream wanted to think so. Who was he to determine what was good, what was bad? That was for the Gods and they had abandoned him a while ago, so what did it really matter? It wasn’t like people would care enough to hear him out.</p><p><br/>
 He just wished his friends would stop, that <em>they</em> would hear him out, let him explain that he didn’t do anything wrong so that he could defend himself against the vicious accusations that were thrown his way and stuck to his face and name like cobwebs. He wanted things to go back to normal, he wanted his friends to embrace him, wanted to be able to laugh with them, he wanted to be young and wild and beautiful and <em>free-</em></p><p><br/>
But Dream never got what he wanted.</p><p>It shouldn’t surprise him anymore. Lady Luck had kissed him adieu and he was falling like Icarus did when he was too close to the sun. He wasn’t sure when he would plummet into the sea of his inevitable doom but Dream hoped that it wouldn’t be anytime soon. And then again, hope is all gone and no one would be there to hold his hand and guide him back underneath the starshine.</p><p>The beauty of the day seemed to mock him and his inner turmoil, the darkness that hummed inside of him with every step he took and Dream just wanted to lay down and rest despite getting up a few minutes ago.</p><p>His limbs ached from constant running, falling, jumping and climbing and from the distrust in his friends’ eyes. The mask hid his exhaustion and inner unrest behind a crude smile that he himself didn’t even have the strength to muster. But nobody would know. He pretended it didn’t bother him. </p><p><br/>
He pushed himself to run faster and faster until it felt like his feet were barely touching the ground, like he was flying and maybe if he ran fast enough, he could reach the Gods and they could take his hand and yank him from this hell so hard that his wrist would snap.</p><p>Trees and animals passed by in a blur, all he could focus on were the things ahead of him and the voices far behind him, indicating that he was safer than he had been a few heartbeats ago. He ignored the painful thought of him no longer associating safety and home with his childhood friends. </p><p><br/>
And thank the Gods that he had been paying attention to his path because that made him stop in front of a ravine that he would have certainly fallen into. Dream came to an abrupt halt, watching dirt and rocks fall down into the darkness instead of him. The blond didn’t hear them hit the ground, couldn’t even see it. He certainly did not want to fall down there.</p><p><br/>
 He looked left and right and the ravine seemed long and deep and endless; something that tore through the land and split it in half. He looked forward. Several blocks of space separated him from the other side, he had no blocks on him to help him cross over to the other side. He made a mental note to get himself some tools and blocks for cases like this one. Dream wasn’t sure if he could make a jump like that. And if he would fall- it would be over. </p><p><br/>
He tried not to think about how it would feel to miss, to scratch at the stone walls and scream as the darkness wrapped its many hands around him and dragged him down into the cold below. He tried not to imagine the pain, the sound of bones breaking, the sight of a cracked mask and blood pooling out from underneath a limp, crooked body. </p><p><br/>
Dream decided that it would be safer to walk next to the ravine until he found its end and just as he was about to start running again, he heard the voices in the distance grow closer. And Dream didn’t know if it was the panic that got him to make that decision or if it was his own stupidity. Maybe it was a delicate mixture of both.</p><p><br/>
 He turned and started to run back the way he came. He could make out the surprise on their faces as he ran towards them at full speed. He watched them raise their weapons again, watched them push themselves harder to reach him.</p><p>And then he turned around and ran back towards the cliff. He pressed every bit of energy he had left into his legs, getting faster and faster, rushing towards the edge. Dream's eyes switched between the path under his feet, the other side and the end of this one, making sure that he would get this right, jump at the right time- </p><p><br/>
And then he was on the edge of the cliff. Shortly before his feet no longer had any ground beneath them, he pushed himself off. The blond reached out with his arms and his hands barely managed to grab onto the edge of the other side. He felt rocks, grass and earth beneath his trembling fingertips and dug his nails into the soil. His entire body was shivering, his breaths short, fast and uneven. He felt dizzy. A glance over his shoulder revealed the hunters on the edge of the other side, several blocks behind him. He was out of reach. He was safe. </p><p><br/>
He took a breath and basked in triumph and victory. He had actually done it. Dream felt like shouting and screaming in happiness besides the exhaustion, though his mind provided him with the idea to get some blocks for his inventory so that he would not have to pull a stunt like that again. He could hear the hunters argue over why none of them had blocks and that they needed to get some and took that as his cue to start pulling himself up. </p><p><br/>
“No, no, he is escaping! Get him!”, Bad screamed and Dream chuckled only to choke as a sharp pain shot through his back. An arrow had lodged itself in his shoulder blade and the pain, nausea and weakness that followed proved that it was no normal arrow -when did they have the chance to get poisoned arrows- and the blonde cursed as one of his hands lost its grip and dangled uselessly at his side. He dug his other hand into the soil until his knuckles were white. He pressed his feet against the stone wall and pulled himself up, hearing lose rocks tumble down. He dragged himself across the grass and then got up on shaky legs and another arrow landed in his left leg. Sapnap cheered.</p><p>Great. </p><p><br/>
Dream stumbled as his leg gave out from underneath him and tugged out his wooden axe to stabilize himself but turned around, grabbing his shovel from his inventory when he saw them bridging over with dirt blocks. He limped forward and before the hunters even understood what was about to happen, Dream was already destroying the block beneath Sapnap and Ant, sending them down into the ravine before he did the same with Bad and George. </p><p><br/>
He ignored their screams that echoed through the area, reflected by the high walls of the crater he just sent them into, wide eyes that were full of fear, they still had lives left, an endless amount of them and they would come back. They always did. (His heart had no reason to happily flutter around when he thought about it, it meant that he would be hunted until he was dead. They were no longer his friends.)</p><p><br/>
Suddenly, Dream remembered one thing. The hunters were down there, judging by the silence most likely dead. Which meant that the compasses they carried with them would be in his hands if he got down there before them. He hoped their respawn point wasn’t nearby and then started to dig his way down, needing to switch to a pickaxe once he reached stone.</p><p>By the time he had reached the bottom Dream's pickaxe was close to breaking and he could barely even stand; poison ran through his system and blood dribbled down his leg and back. His wounds ached. He felt like he was about to faint but if he didn’t destroy the enchanted compasses now where he had the chance, they would always find him. And Dream couldn’t have that. Not when liberty was so close that he could almost breathe it in.</p><p><br/>
He ignored the part of him that longed to keep his friends near him, to let them keep the compasses so that they could find him and reunite after he explained everything to them because they no longer were his friends now and they wouldn’t hear him out, right?</p><p><br/>
Right. </p><p><br/>
He would be a fool if he would ever dare to believe anything else. </p><p><br/>
With bitterness, he replaced the pickaxe in his free hand with a torch and looked around. In the further corners, he could catch a glimpse of a few monsters, alarmed by the previous screams of his ex-friends and the light of the torch in his hand. He would need to hurry up. The light made him notice a few bodies on the floor. The sight was sickening.</p><p> </p><p><br/>
Ant's clothes were blood-drenched, jaw out of place. His eyes were wide and stared directly into Dream's very soul that helplessly trashed, trapped behind his ribs. Next to him was Sapnap, his arm crooked and bent, fingers tangled in Ant's shirt. His eyes had rolled into the back of his head, a pool of blood beneath his skull. His leg was beneath Ant's. Bad and George were a mess of entangled limbs and blood, both of their clothes drenched in their own blood. The smell and the sight were nauseating. Dream promptly turned and threw up.</p><p><br/>
His eyes burned with tears. He blamed it on the fact that he was still dry-heaving after he got his dinner (or was it lunch, he couldn't really remember the last time he had eaten-) out of his system; his body unwilling to accept that his stomach no longer had anything to give. His entire form was trembling harder than before, he gagged and refused to acknowledge that he was sobbing because this would have been him and he would have died. That would have been it. But they would come back and be completely fine. He had done the right thing.</p><p><br/>
He forced himself to turn back. He tried his best to ignore how slippery the floor was beneath his boots and now it sounded as if he walked through a puddle on a rainy day as he started going through their stuff, stealing a freshly-made shield, iron-boots and a golden helmet along with some food before he gathered the compasses. The light of enchantment greeted him, all of the needles pointing at their target as if they were mocking him. A faint glow caught his attention and there was a lava pool hidden behind stone. </p><p><br/>
While the compasses themselves could be completely trashed, they were still enchanted and Dream didn’t need them to be reused. So, picked them up and dropped them into the lava along with the rest of their stuff. </p><p><br/>
And then he dragged himself back to the hole he dug out and started building up with the blocks he had gathered. Once he was up, Dream started limping away from the ravine.</p><p>He really wasn’t as fast as he would have wanted to be but he had to drag his useless leg along with him and that certainly slowed him down a lot. His arm didn’t bother him that much but without an antidote, the poison wouldn’t leave his body for a while and that meant that he didn’t want to be out in the open, especially not during night. He wouldn’t survive. He was in fact looking for a townlet and the gods smiled upon him after what has happened because he spotted rooftops and smoke in the distance. </p><p><br/>
Maybe luck hadn’t completely left him. He paused for a second and sat down on the grass, finally tugging the arrow out of his leg and then out of his back. He decided against leaving them out in the open for the hunters to find and buried them. Anything to hide his current location. The grass would be back before the sun settled, he was sure, so that didn’t worry him. </p><p><br/>
Dream took off his mask next and stored it in his bag. Despite the wind caressing his stardusted face and ruffling his sun-kissed locks with a softness that only freedom gave him, he was uncomfortable. The blond rarely took it off, even his friends had never seen him without the mask. And he would rather leave it, keep the tiny bit of security he had left but the villagers would recognise the mask that was on every wanted poster in the country and so, he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and tugged up the scarf until the only thing that was left to see where his eyes. </p><p><br/>
Once that problem was solved, Dream's quivering form rose once more and he continued to head towards the village, using the wooden axe as a walking stick. He was glad that he hadn’t thrown it away, even though it was basically useless when it came to doing damage. That wasn’t what he used to fight anyway; the iron axe was much better for that. But that was tugged away from sight, hidden under his cloak that was long enough to reach past his knees. </p><p><br/>
He arrived at the village when the sun was high in the sky. He sat down in front of the well and basically inhaled the cooked steaks he had stolen from the hunters, shoving one after the other into his mouth. If that earned him a few weirded out looks from the villagers, he couldn’t care less. Dream would never see them again anyway. The young man would be up and gone as soon as he would have a treatment for his poison. He hadn’t eaten this nicely in a while, usually not having enough time to cook food and instead deciding to steal hay and other things from villages, sometimes he was lucky enough to find some apples and berries and other times he had to deal with the consequences of eating either uncooked food or rotten flesh.</p><p><br/>
After he was finished with his meal -and after he tugged the scarf back to cover the lower half of his face- the blond shakily rose to his feet again and wandered through the town until he found a shop with enchanted books and potions. The store itself was empty aside from the man behind the counter and the smell of books and magic was thick in the air. He subconsciously took a deep breath.</p><p><br/>
 Dream limped towards the shop keeper and the man immediately put down his book, eyes wide and mouth open. “Oi, lad! What happened to you, young one?”, the man asked and the worry on his face and in his voice warmed Dream's core. It had been a while since someone had been worried about his wellbeing. A tiny voice reminded him that the man would be glad to see him in pain if he knew who he was. He would think of him as a despicable monster like everyone else would do. The warmth was replaced by an aching coldness and Dream tried to sink deeper into his clothes. </p><p><br/>
“Ran into some skeletons earlier, they had some poisoned arrows and lucky me got shot twice. “, he explained with a faux laugh, not making eye contact with the man. He heard the villager sigh. “Young ones like you need to be more careful, you should stay at home when it is dark outside. Let the iron golems mess with those creatures, son. “, he said and walked into another room, leaving Dream alone in the shop before the older stuck his head out, eyebrow raised. “What are you waiting for, kid? Come on in! I will brew you a potion that will fix you right up. “, he said and the blond awkwardly followed him, gladly taking a seat on a chair when the man pointed at it.</p><p><br/>
“So, I have never seen you in the village before, kid. “, the other stated after a few seconds of silence and Dream tensed. “Did you recently move here or something?”, the villager asked and Dream swallowed thickly. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears, his hands trembled and he could barely swallow.</p><p>“No, I, uh- I don’t really live anywhere. “, he replied and internally face-palmed because he really couldn’t have chosen a more suspicious answer. But the male only hummed. “I see, I see. You are one of those wandering traders, eh?”, he questioned and Dream nodded stiffly, adding a quiet “Yeah. “, as confirmation.</p><p>“What’s your name, son? “</p><p>And Dream started to go through a list of names that wouldn’t immediately be associated with his real one before he quickly answered:” Cornelius!”, and that had seemed way too hasty, too nervous, too suspicious, why the fuck couldn’t he get himself together-</p><p>“ My name is Cornelius.”, he repeated much calmer this time but the shop keeper only laughed, warm and delighted. “Easy there, young one. We have all the time in the world. “, he said and hah, he couldn’t be more wrong. Dream was running out of time; every second he wasn’t moving the hunters would get closer and they would find him and Dream would rather not have that happen. </p><p><br/>
“How much do you want for the potion, sir?”, he asked instead, changing the topic and the man waved him off. “Call me Jack, kid, no need to be so formal. It’s only ten emeralds for you. You look like you need some rest too, those are some heavy bags under your eyes. “, he commented and then handed Dream a small glass bottle with a bright smile. <br/>
The blond accepted it with trembling fingers and a frown. “But-“ Jack shook his head and waved him off, patting his good shoulder.</p><p>“It’s alright, kid. You deserve it. I heard poison is a nasty thing. Wouldn’t want to go through that, plus, people like you have the best stories. Promise to tell me one and we’re even. “, he grinned and stuck out his hand, squeezing Dream's tightly once the blond accepted the handshake. In a weird way, it was endearing. “I promise. “, he whispered and Jack's smile widened. “Good lad. Now drink up. “</p><p><br/>
Dream tugged down his scarf and was about to raise the bottle to his lips but Jack's gasp and a shocked “Oi, lad, what happened to your mouth?”, made him reel back and desperately attempt to cover his face, though his arm still didn’t obey him because he was fucking poisoned and the other was clutching the bottle. He almost dropped the container when the chair tilted and fell from the sudden shift, dragging Dream down with it but Jack dropped to his knees and put his own hands around Dream's before he carefully took the vial from his hand.</p><p>The blond hurriedly tugged up the scarf. He wanted his mask. This was terrible. It was why he never showed his face, why he wanted to hide it with all its ugly little imperfections. It didn’t bother him before with all the people but now with only one person who was getting a clear look at the ugly wound he felt dizzy, vulnerable- a monster hidden beneath human skin- “I am so sorry you had to see this, it’s hideous and disgusting and-“</p><p><br/>
“No, no, no- Sorry lad, didn’t want to upset you, just looks really painful. Should have worded that differently. “, Jack remarked softly and Dream shrugged, wrapping his arm around himself. “It’s fine. It happened a bit ago during a creeper explosion. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Just- looks fucking awful. “, he explained <em>(a lie, a lie is what it was but that was what he was good at)</em> and chuckled humourlessly. His throat felt dry, unlike his eyes that were wet with tears that Dream wasn’t willing to shed.</p><p><br/>
Jack's smile was pained but still present when he handed the vial back to Dream and turned around. “Go on and drink. I won’t look. “, he promised and Dream hesitated for a few seconds before he tugged his scarf down once again and gulped down the contents of the bottle, relishing in the sweet taste and the immediate relief it brought. Potions were truly something else. While it certainly started healing his wounds and curing the poison, there was a tiredness in his bones and Dream was basically a limp puddle on the floor, tired and on the verge of passing out.</p><p><br/>
He pulled the scarf back up and cuddled into his cloak before he cleared his throat. “You can- you can turn back now, it’s fine, I'm fine. Thank you so much, Jack. “, he mumbled, reaching into his pockets to pull out the (very much stolen) payment to give it to him and the older man turned with a soft smile, taking the offered bottle and emeralds, placing the glass container on a shelf while he put the emeralds away in a barrel. He helped a wobbly Dream to his feet.</p><p><br/>
“Do you have a place to stay, kid?” and the blond should have lied, should have lied because that was all he did anyway but Dream was tired and hurt, unwilling to go out there and be alone and vulnerable and so he only shook his head. “No. “, he answered honestly and Jack gave him a pitying look which was followed by another smile. Jack sure smiled a lot. Dream wondered where he got all that happy energy from. </p><p><br/>
“We have a free room at my house. You can stay with good ol' me and my lovely wife. “, the man offered proudly and Dream blinked warily. “I- uh, I wouldn’t want to intrude-“, he protested weakly and Jack waved him off, another thing that the man did a lot. The blond didn’t mind in the slightest. “Nonsense, nonsense. My wife and I would enjoy your company, Cornelius. And you need some rest now. We, unfortunately, do not have an inn in our little town. “</p><p><br/>
The younger male wasn’t sure when he last heard someone suggest that they would enjoy his company but it filled his chest with a pleasant warmth and a tingling feeling spread through his body. It left him warm and comfortable and that was enough to make him give in. “As long as it doesn’t bother you. “, he responded and the other laughed, patting his shoulder before he turned around and started to walk out of the room, pulling Dream along with him. “No need to be such a downer, son, we will surely have a great time together, I can feel it!”</p><p>Maybe Jack's enthusiasm was contagious because Dream could muster a smile as well when he was led away from the shop and towards Jack's home. </p><p><br/>
A woman was taking care of the farm near the house when they arrived but once she noticed them, she immediately turned towards him, all soft smiles and excitement and these two had to be perfect for each other. Dream felt a slight sting, it seemed to be a painful reminder that unlike them, he didn’t have anyone to rely on and as soon as he left, he would be alone again. He didn’t want that to happen but he wouldn’t be able to stay and wait for the hunters to stumble upon the village and find him. He needed to keep moving and hope that the hunters would walk in the opposite direction. <br/>
Considering the fact that his luck wasn’t the best when it came to them not finding him, he should not get too used to the comforting presence of these two. Dream needed to leave as soon as he could. </p><p><br/>
“Jack! Darling!”, the woman called and welcomed him with open arms, pressing a kiss to her husband's lips. Dream tried to look anywhere but at the two of them, awkwardly stepping away from Jack to gain some distance from the smooching couple.</p><p>Apparently, Jack's wife noticed it and pulled away to look at him. “And who is that?”, she asked curiously, looking at him with warmth in her eyes and Dream shrunk in on himself. He was cold, unused to the pleasant heat of something other than hate that burned through his skin. </p><p><br/>
“That's Cornelius. One of those wandering traders. “, Jack said and Dream watched uncomfortably as she narrowed her eyes, uncertainty in her gaze. “He doesn’t look like a typical wandering trader. “, she remarked and the blood in his veins seemed to freeze as his heart skipped a beat. Her husband only frowned.</p><p>“Helga, don’t be like that. Not all wandering traders look the same, don’t be rude to the kid. He had a near-death experience today. “, he said and patted Dream's shoulder. The blond subtly flinched at the sudden touch. <br/>
Her eyes softened a bit. “Oh my. What happened?”, she asked, her voice warmer and more considerate than before as if she was feeling guilty... “I- uh- I got shot by skeletons. They had a few poisoned arrows. “, he answered, stumbling over his words as he did his best to avoid eye contact.</p><p>Jack sensed his discomfort and jumped in. “But don’t worry! He just needs some shut-eye and then he is all good. I brewed him a potion. “ His wife rolled her eyes at that, though they were full of fondness and Dream wished that someone would look at him like that. </p><p><br/>
“So anyway. As I said, Cornelius is a traveller. And I really don’t want to send him out into the open while he is recovering, so I offered the kid to stay the night. Is that alright with you, my love?”, he asked and she sighed, shaking her head before she gave Dream a smile that was as soft as the clouds that were hanging from the sky and the blond didn’t know that gentleness could shatter people. “Of course, he can stay. I wouldn’t want him to go out and run into all these monsters out there. “, she stated and her husband said something in return, pulling her close with a bright grin and Dream averted his gaze again, face flushing. He felt like a kid that had to watch their parents flirt. </p><p><br/>
Helga pulled away with a giggle and smiled at him once more. “Well, let us show you where you can stay. “, she said and the two of them guided him towards their house, Jack walking next to him to make sure that Dream wouldn’t fall. The inside of the house was as simple as the outside. They didn’t have a lot of furniture but Dream did not mind that at all. He slept in trees and didn’t even have a house anymore; he was the last person who should be bullying them. Especially because they let him stay in their home. </p><p><br/>
Jack was the one to guide him towards the guest room. “Let us know if you need anything, alright, Cornelius?”, the man asked and Dream hummed, giving a stiff nod. The older man chuckled and once again he patted the uninjured shoulder that wasn’t currently healing. His touch was warm and comforting and the blond tried not to make it too obvious that he had not been touched so affectionately in a long time. “Get some rest. “, he said and when Dream sat down on the bed, he asked himself if he even deserved this much kindness. </p><p><br/>
He laid down, staring at the wooden ceiling. Light found its way into the room through the window and Dream watched it wander until his eyes fluttered shut and sleep wrapped around him to protect him from the evils of the world. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><br/>
<em>And the sun rises. Gold drips from the sky and melts into warm fuscia and flamingo, he cannot tell if it is bleeding or weeping but the sky is far away from his cold hands that are dry from sand and time, so he does not pay too much attention to it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And the sun falls. The sky bleeds sangria, rose and butterscotch and Arbor Vitæ, Cedar, Dock, Heliotrope, Ivy, Pea and Phlox, they soak it up as if they are starving, they paint themselves in the colours of the evening and it does not concern him, he knows it does not, so he does not mind.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And the moon rises and the sky is a painter who uses stars and planets and humanity as dye and it all turns into a beautiful confusing mix that the sky reflects as if it were a looking glass. If he looks closer, he might make out his own misery, but he was tired and so he pays no attention to it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The sun arises with a new day and so does he. If he (Dream is not sure who he is, but at the same time he knows and it leaves him with a warm buzzing feeling) does not return, it will be the last time you raise your head, they taunt and he watches the fluff in the sky, watches Helios and he knows that he will be here soon -of course, of course- and so he does not mind them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Pink, gold, tangerine and fire are heavy on his shoulders as they wait and they all grow impatient along with his heart that flutters like a caged bird. It wants out, out, out, to fly, fly, fly; a caged bird and a caged man doomed to join Hades. But he will be here soon so he does not pay attention to the bird trapped behind his ribs although he feels its feathers brush against his insides in a way that makes him dizzy and unwell.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And just as it is about to disappear, he holds on and he arrives. And Dream knows that the newcomer is him and he runs into his arms. He smells like sunshine and stardust, like sea and freedom and Amaranth and Honeysuckle. And the whispers wrap around him like his arms and the tyrant sputters. He does mind that, though, it amuses him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And they are golden, he is here, Dream is here and he is home, far away from home and for a shared heartbeat, it is just the two of them. "You came back for me", Dream utters and he laughs as a God would as his words melt into marble. " Leaving you behind would have been the first and last promise I ever broke." </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But he did not and Dream likes to think that is why the gods did not make the sky, the sun, the moon, the clouds and stars fall that day. Because he was here -a god- And Dream was too, his most devoted believer. And they - they were home.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><br/>
A bell rung, glass shattered and Dream awoke with a gasp. There was a faint sting in his leg and shoulder but it was not too bad. The ground beneath him was soft and Dream realised that he was in a bed and then it all came crashing down on him. Literally.</p><p>Glass shards flew towards him as the remains of the window were destroyed and he rolled out of the bed, scrambling towards the other side of the room, hastily opening the door to find Jack and Helga cowering beneath the staircase. He could hear screams and growls outside, heard the iron golem fighting and someone slamming their axe against the door of the home. A raid. <br/>
Today really was not his lucky day, huh?</p><p><br/>
The blood in his veins froze and Dream looked at the two of them with horror. “What are you doing, we have to go!”, he snapped, tugging his axe out from beneath his cloak and positioning himself in front of them. The door would soon break down and they would have to face what was behind it. And Dream should be the one facing that man, not Jack, not Helga. Not some kind, innocent people who had never fought a soul in their entire life; but Dream whose life was built on fighting, on weapons, on violence and broken promises.</p><p><br/>
“Kid, we can’t go out there, they will kill us before we get anywhere!”, Jack hissed, every trace of kindness gone. He was as cold as Dream's hands that gripped the handle of his axe so tight that his knuckles turned white.</p><p>“Where are we even supposed to go?”, Helga added with a whimper, clinging to her husband's arm. Her eyes were wide with fear, she was trembling. The young man couldn’t blame her. Raids were terrifying if you had no way to defend yourself.</p><p><br/>
Before he could answer, the door fell with a slam and two men with axes stormed in. Helga screamed and Jack held her tighter, turning them so that his body acted as a shield. Dream raised his axe. </p><p><br/>
One of the men snorted, a cruel and disgusting sound. “What? Are villages seriously so low that we at fighting against children now?”, he asked mockingly. There was a dark glint in his eyes. Dream's gaze hardened. “Or are you just suicidal?”, he taunted, clearly not seeing the blond in front of him as a threat. His mistake. </p><p><br/>
Dream shot towards him, delivering a kick to his stomach that made the guy stumble backwards and fall before he brought the axe down on his head. There was a cracking noise and warm blood splattered across the floor, the wall and his clothes. The axe had left a tear in his skull. The body hit the ground with a dull thud. It was a gruesome sight but Dream's innocence had died screaming years ago and he had killed countless creatures and even his own friends before. A split skull was the last thing he cared about.</p><p><br/>
He turned towards the other who looked at him with a mix of anger and fear. He also put up more of a fight than his friend, swinging his axe with so much force that Dream almost crumbled when their blades met. Pillagers never had a real fighting style. They always used brute force instead of strategy and if he were stronger and more arrogant, he would say that it made them weak. But here, struggling to remain on his feet, he knew better. Pure strength mattered, especially when their enemy had barely any armour aside from iron boots. </p><p><br/>
He jumped back and to the side, advancing again and connected the blade with the man's vulnerable side. Dream hurriedly pulled it back out and slammed it into his stomach, then his throat, then his head. Another dull thud echoed through the room, the silence hesitating to linger as Dream's breathing filled the air. Crimson clouded his sight, his mind, his senses as it splattered onto everything near the criminal. The blood was wet and warm and felt heavy on his clothes and blade.</p><p><br/>
“Cornelius?”</p><p><br/>
He turned abruptly and shrunk in on himself upon seeing their frightened expressions now directed at him. It reminded him of his friends when he first killed them. Shock and fear, an unpleasant memory. He had felt like a monster. And maybe, that is what he was. <br/>
Surely Dream must be a sight to see, covered in burgundy with a bloodied axe in hand. He tries to hide the twitching body behind him and nods towards the back door. “You need to leave. It is not safe here. “, he said, refusing to address the elephant in the room.</p><p>“It’s pitch-black outside, leaving now- it is too dangerous with all the monsters and those people out there. “, Jack said and Dream couldn’t retort for there were angry voices and suddenly there was a sharp pain in his healing shoulder and on his back; a long, deep cut.</p><p><br/>
He was pushed to the ground, the screams of the couple falling on deaf ears. His face got slammed into the wooden floor and there was a crack- his nose was probably broken. His blood mixed with the blood of the pillagers and flooded his mouth until he gagged and twisted, trying to shrug the man off. He turned his head to look at Jack and Helga who were trying to defend themselves against the man that was approaching him. He couldn’t fail them like he had failed his friends. He owed them. </p><p><br/>
The young man turned his head over his shoulder to get a better look (at the axe that was raised, ready for a critical hit) and promptly shifted his grip on his own weapon. And then he rammed it into the man's stomach. The guy scrambled off him, spluttering and trying to get a better grip on his axe but Dream jumped back to his feet, pushing the blade right between his eyes. The man fell like his comrades. </p><p><br/>
He was brought back into reality by a scream and hurried towards the other man who had raised his bloodied axe to strike Jack- again. Dream's eyes widened as he saw the deep wound in the man's side. Jack had been hurt all because Dream hadn’t been quick enough. He could have prevented it if he were better. Guilt gnawed at him like a rat, his breaths came out even more uneven. He jumped, brought his axe down. It made contact with the man's throat, almost a clean decapitation. Though, an iron axe and the force were not enough for that. The man fell anyway. </p><p><br/>
The blond kicked the body away from them and forcefully pulled Jack to his feet, dragging Helga up along with him. “You need to leave. “, he repeated, sterner this time to get his point across. Dream was a good fighter but there was no chance that he could fight all these men without his weapon breaking or him dying. He was injured too, blood running down his back, his skin painted in burgundy.</p><p><br/>
“Now. Go. I will make sure you’ll be fine. “, he said and ushered them to the back and out of the door, steadying Jack as they made their way towards the forest. Lady Luck truly did not seem to know what to think of him, as the house was near a forest and the furthest away from the centre of the little townlet. He guided then towards the forest with an icy determination that settled in his bones as if they were its home. </p><p><br/>
Jack was leaning against him, his free hand clutching his side but the idea of an attempt to get a healing potion from his shop was not brought up. All three of them knew that it would be a suicide mission. </p><p><br/>
When they made it to the first tree, Dream helped Helga up and then ripped a part of his cloak off, asking Jack if he was allowed to take care of him, to help- but the man hurriedly took the cloth from him and did it himself. The blond told himself that he didn’t mind. </p><p><br/>
Afterwards, he helped Jack to climb up as well, making sure that he would not touch the man anywhere near his injury. Then, he turned away, ready to head back to the village to steal a horse and flee because Dream could not afford to stop, to help, to settle down. And it was selfish, he knew that it was selfish, that he was selfish but he was too young to lose his wings, to melt, to plummet into the sea. </p><p><br/>
“Where are you going?”, Helga asked, worry evident and Dream did not understand why she still cared after seeing him slaughter a man with no remorse in his gaze. He was a monster and it was better if he was far away from every human that would ever cross his path. “I- I am going back to the village. I- I will try to-to-... help. “, he lied, finding it hard to swallow past the lump in his throat. His tongue was heavy in his dry mouth. </p><p><br/>
He did not wait for an answer, ignored them calling for a man that had died long ago as he rushed towards the direction of the village, making his way around it -because he did not care for them, could not afford to get more injured in favour of saving people who he would never see again- and keeping an eye out for the actual wandering trader with their llamas and the horse he had seen with them. And he spotted them in the distance, saw their silhouettes as the person did their best to drag one of their llamas forward. The young man never understood them. Why llamas? They were stubborn little things, more of a burden than anything else.  </p><p>Dream slowed down a bit, still far enough away to be safe. He put his mask back on. Cornelius was gone and Dream had returned.<br/>
His pace quickened once more as he rushed towards the man slowing to a stop next to him. The person looked away from their llama and froze when they saw him. All colour drained from their face and the blond was certain he must look rather terrifying with his bloody clothing and axe. He pushed down the satisfaction when he pointed his weapon at them and they stepped back, further and further until they promptly turned and ran, screaming, pleading. </p><p><br/>
He ignored them. Dream had harmed enough people for today. He turned towards the horse that seemed unbothered by its rider's sudden departure. He decided it was fine to sacrifice some hay to tame it. It wasn’t really his anyway, like most things he owned.</p><p><br/>
He pulled it out of his inventory and it took a lot of hay, but the horse ended up liking him and so all was well. He picked up the leads in case he would need them, stuffed them into his inventory and then Dream climbed onto its back, getting rid of some of the fancy materials decorating it before he gave it a light kick and they took off. The moon and stars illuminated their way as the screams of the villagers faded away into the night and were replaced by the hissing and growling of monsters.</p><p><br/>
Dream buried his face -or rather his mask because he had locked himself in a cage again, like a coward that was too afraid to face the dangers this world held- in the pure white fur. A part of him hoped that he wouldn’t taint the horse, wouldn’t cover it in red, another part of him wanted to break, to wither, to kill, to die and ruin and it wanted to drag all living beings around him down with him. Dream breathed in. The air tasted of death, smoke, wind, moonbeams and stardust.</p><p> </p><p><br/>
No remorse holds no recourse. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. In my imperfection, I am whole</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dream rides and thinks</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warning: mentioned violence and injuries</p><p> </p><p>Follow me on Twitter @IlluminaIsTaken, on Tumblr @illumina777 and on here, pretty please with a cherry and happiness for Dream on top?</p><p>Shorter than the last one but it is more of a filler chapter so whatever lmao</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>And he in all his golden glory and victory, in his vibrant youth he had never felt so dull as if the colour was stolen from him and spun into the realm around him, to gift it beauty and divinity that he had never possessed in the first place. For Dream was but a thief who had messed with the wrong people and was now paying the price with blood on his hands and wounds that would never heal. The stars seemed to be burning out above him, they were but a dying blur of light and the world turned and turned and turned and he just wished that it all would stop so that for a single golden-spun heartbeat he could do more than just survive. Dream wanted to live, to ride faster and faster, higher and higher until his bloodied, sin-stained fingers were able to touch the sharp ends of the stars.</p><p>The quartz skin would crumble away and part and his body would weep in the form of red, red, red. And maybe then when light and blood would mix, he would finally bleed gold. And it would be cold, he would be cold and icy and his skin would turn blue and hard, for what was more freezing than a God's blood? And it would trickle down his frozen body and he would bleed gold and find a god in his broken, mortal divinity.</p><p>And then he would fall from grace because that was all he could really do (fall and fail and disappoint and destroy) and they would turn him into an example, a foolish sinner who longed for the stars, to touch something so light and pure that it would shatter once his tainted soul came too close. And he would fall, he would fall and he would break. But could you break if you have not been whole for such a long time?</p><p>Dream buried his face in the horse's white mane, smelled hay and earth and felt blood rush beneath his cold fingers -which were draped in blood and cold moonlight and he might be a god, after all, freezing cold and detached as he was- and under its skin. It was warm. It was alive. The last he had felt a living being within his reach they had died to his very own hands, another heart that he was dragging behind him along with the heavy chains that kept him tied down; a painful reminder of who he really was. Dream hoped that this life would last longer, he was so selfish for such a greedy wish. And yet, was selfishness not a part of being human? But he wanted to enjoy the company just a little bit longer. It has been so long. He had been so lonely. Could he just be able to find some happiness for a few moments? </p><p> </p><p>The night was silent aside from the sound of hooves hitting the ground beneath them and the hissing of creatures who were too slow to catch up with them. Dream basked in it, in the power, the wind, the world passing by in a blur of colours. And yet he could hear them coming for him. They were far and out of reach but they were there all the same and- was he going to die? Who was he even asking, Dream wondered and laughed into the mane.</p><p>And his laugh was loud and sharp, so bitter that it tore through the black and into the morning of a new day, bleeding into sobs full of despair, loud and heart-wrenching and lonely, god, he was so lonely and so he could sob and scream and laugh and cry all he wanted. It morphed into the same sounds or maybe his ringing ears could no longer tell the difference because it did not matter, nothing Dream did ever really mattered if he was honest with himself. No one was here. He was alone.</p><p>And Dream was selfish for this (but what did it matter, he was on his own with nothing but himself to lose, he might as well care about the only thing he had left in a world full of blank faces) but he longed for the cold embrace that wrapped like vines around his red, glassy form. </p><p> </p><p>It never failed to make him tremble for the touch of ink-stained fingers even more. And those fingers sang a symphony ― a tragedy- but an elegy that wept blackened tears (tainted by the wrongdoings of humanity) and it was for him, all for him (not for the other people, they just were not the same, they were not him and therefore he could not be replaced, something he had never experienced before) and if that wasn’t just as bittersweet as the ambrosia the Heavenly Officials sipped as they watched him rot from far above, sitting on gold-soaked cotton candy clouds with no worries on their minds.</p><p> </p><p>And here under the stars with Nyx watching him while she shook her head at his childish naivetés was one of the times where he believed that he didn’t deserve any form of human intimacy. And that is why he had fallen in love with the coldness of the lovingness that Death gave him (and a part of him longed for the touch so cold that all the blood in his star-soaked veins would freeze, that would make his heart flutter like a hummingbird until it would stumble to a stop and the more rational part reminded him that he had no more lives left to sacrifice to reach his short high of happiness for playing with Death was a dangerous game even for gods and Dream was mortal).</p><p> </p><p>He directed the horse towards the forest in the distance, longing to get out of the open and into the shadows, to hide from the moon, the stars and their judging eyes. And his horse ran into the woods, into darkness and shadows and finally, something he knew, soaked up and understood. For he was dark because he was darkness and it latched onto him like a parasite, wrapping around his fragile form and stealing the air from his lungs and warmth from his body. It replaced them with stinging, short breaths that formed clouds that rose into the treetops and a coldness settled in his bones. </p><p>And they went in deeper, past the undead who merely graced him when he took turns that we’re too sharp and dangerous. And he stole the colours from the path, the few the forest had left and – he did not mean to, he promised he did not (and Dream kept his promises because deep down in the brightest corners of his soul he was a man of honour). “You must believe me, please God forgive me. “</p><p>The night was silent but Dream continued for his soul was heavy with a burden his injured shoulders were no longer able to carry. And the night was silent. Nyx was not judging him quite yet and there was no one around to hear him beg a God who had never loved him for forgiveness. “I never had ill intent. I promise. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. “, he whispered and the wind carried his words away from him and the young man could only hope that they would reach the right person and that maybe, just maybe, they would whisper and promise something he longed for. Forgiveness. </p><p>And yet despite all his pleading, a darker part of him was hungry again. His stomach was aching again. And his hands, clothes and weapon are red, a red that is different from his own and still the same. And his soul longed for more, for broken bones and shattered cries, for blood, chaos, destruction, war and misery and Dream wanted to regret. He did. </p><p>And instead, all he could do was whisper, let his message get carried away by the wind who might as well be his only friend at this point. “I am a human. Please God forgive me.” There was no answer.</p>
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